Taming Talia Page 17

  Jared gestured for Sarita’s husband to enter first. The man nodded, and Jared followed. The strain of riding with his bad leg caused the muscles to cramp. There was a dying fire in the fireplace. In the corner lay Talia’s housekeeper, covered in blankets and shivering. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were sunk back in her head. He’d never seen anyone who looked that bad who was still drawing breaths, ragged though they were. The way she coughed, she sounded like she might never breathe again.

  If he didn’t do something, the woman was a goner. “Casa,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the ranch house. As cold as the ranch house was, they still had a good supply of firewood…and there was that supply of willow-bark tea Talia had used to save his own sorry hide.

  Talia would know what to do if he could get her housekeeper back to the ranch house…if she could just survive the trip. The woman was in no condition to ride. He’d have to lay her across the saddle and lead Midnight back to the ranch. A half mile journey on his bad leg. He rubbed his thighs, willing the muscles to relax. No matter how much it hurt or worsened his injury, he had no choice. And best hurry, or Talia would lose her friend and housekeeper as surely as the sun rose each day.

  Together, he and Pedro swathed the dying woman in wool blankets and carried her outside, then positioned her carefully over the saddle. “Go ahead,” Jared said. “Tell Señora Montrose to prepare a bed. We’re coming.”

  Pedro nodded and took off on foot, following the path Jared had created on Midnight. Apparently, Sarita’s husband understood English better than he spoke it. Jared checked the woman’s head, making sure it was wrapped against the cold. Untying the reins, he began the long, half-mile journey back to Talia—long only because of the snow and his injury; otherwise, the distance would’ve been nothing. “Let’s go, fella,” he said. The stallion nodded as if eager. They would follow Pedro as fast as possible.

  He took a step and winced. No matter. He’d suffered worse pain in his life, and it would be worth the effort and pain if Sarita survived.

  A loud banging startled Talia from a deep sleep. She sat and looked around for Jared. His side of the bed was cold, so he must’ve gone out to see after the animals. The banging kept up. It was coming from the front of the house. She swung her feet to the icy-cold tiles, grabbed the clothes she’d worn the night before and quickly dressed.

  Who could be here pounding on her front door? Not Jared. He would’ve just come in through the kitchen. She ran to the front hallway, then opened the door.

  “Pedro!” Her hand went to her throat. “What is it? Where’s Sarita?”

  “The hombre.” He pointed over his shoulder and finished telling her how Sarita barely made it home through the blizzard and what had transpired since.

  Trying to catch a glimpse of Jared, she peered over Pedro’s shoulder. All she could see was a black speck…a very slow-moving black speck. She willed him to hurry.

  “Build a fire in el jefe’s bedroom. While you do that, I’ll saddle my horse and meet them. Jared’s injured.”

  Pedro nodded and rushed away to bring in more wood.

  It didn’t take long for Natalia to saddle her mare and lead her around to the front of the hacienda. It seemed as if Jared and Sarita had barely moved since she first saw him over Pedro’s shoulder. The pain in his leg must be excruciating from the cold.

  Following the trail, she spurred Esperanza to increase her speed. The gentle mare obliged. As soon as Natalia reached Jared and the heavily bundled Sarita, she quickly dismounted and handed the mare’s reins to Jared. “Here. You ride mine, and I’ll lead yours.”

  “No.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Switching up will save time. You’re injured. You’re in pain. I’m not. Now get back to the house and help Pedro get the fire going in Reginald’s bedroom.”

  “But—”

  “Go on. Get out of the way.”

  Shaking his head, he accepted the mare’s reins and handed his to her. “Apparently, you’re the boss,” he said somewhat wryly, then mounted the mare and swung her head back toward the ranch house.

  “Finally.” She walked around Jared’s stallion to check on Sarita. Pulling back one of the wool blankets, she discovered her housekeeper—no, her dear friend—was burning up with fever.

  “Santa Madre.” Her throat grew tight and her voice raspy.

  Without another word, she began the trek back home. The stallion seemed to sense the urgency of their mission and picked up the pace.

  She’d made the right decision in forcing Jared to ride back to the house on her mare. Sarita wouldn’t have been in this condition if Natalia had been paying more attention to the weather instead of the very fine stranger in her parlor. There was no escaping the cold, hard fact: if her friend died, it would be Natalia’s fault.

  One step at a time, she slogged through the snow. Fortunately, today’s wind was nothing like the first night’s. She ducked her head and pulled her Stetson’s brim down to shade her eyes from the sun’s blinding glare on the snow surrounding her.

  Once she was within yards of the front door, Jared and Pedro rushed out to meet her. The two men carefully pulled Sarita from the back of Jared’s horse and together carried her inside.

  Natalia had started to lead the horse back to the stable when Jared reemerged. “I’ll take care of the horses.” He jerked his head toward the open door. “Sarita needs you…and some of that tea.”

  She nodded and gladly surrendered the reins. Their hands lingered, touching for a second. Her heart swelled with gratitude. Her Pinkerton was truly a hero. “Muchas gracias for finding my friend.” She ran for the door, then glanced over her shoulder. He raised his fingers to his mouth and blew a kiss.

  For a brief second, his unfamiliar gesture startled her, but the meaning was as clear as the Rabbit Ear Mountains in spring. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she acknowledged the sentiment, then shot him a quick smile. Jared nodded and led the two horses away. In spite of Natalia’s reluctance to see him go, she took a deep breath and told herself he wasn’t going far and her friend needed her more than her lover. She waded through the knee-high drifts and slipped on an icy patch. Regaining her balance, she clung to the iron ring on the door, took another deep breath and went inside.

  Once in the house, she threw off her heavy coat, leaving it where it fell, and rushed to Reginald’s bedchamber. Pedro’s quickly built fire was beginning to warm the room. Sarita lay buried under a thick pile of blankets and quilts. Her friend was shaking with hard chills and gasping with each breath. The woman’s eyes were reddened and glazed with fever.

  “Stay with her,” she said to Pedro. “I’ll fetch my store of medicinal herbs. We’ve got to get her fever down quickly.”

  Pedro nodded and moved from the fire to his wife’s side. He dug under the blankets and pulled out her hand. “Hurry, señora. I was digging my way out to bring her to you when the hombre”—he angled his head toward the stables—“he came for us.”

  “He saved my life as well.” She tugged on a corner of the covers to straighten them. “He’s a good man to have around.”

  “Sí.”

  With a quick nod, she rushed from the room. There was much to be done if she was to save her friend’s life.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next three days and nights passed in a blur. Natalia had never been so exhausted, not even when nursing Jared through his bout of fever. While Jared and Pedro took care of all the chores, including their meals, and had spelled her for brief rest periods, the stress of fighting to keep her friend alive had kept her awake.

  On the morning of the fourth day, Sarita opened her eyes, and for once, they were clear. She looked around the room, her gaze widening when she appeared to realize where she was. “How…?”

  Finally. Breathing a sigh of relief, Natalia eagerly clasped her friend’s hand. “You’ve been ill. We brought you here.”

  “Pedro?” Sarita’s gaze went around the room, searching. “How did he manage alone?” Co
ncern crept into her tone. “The snow, it came down so fast. So deep. Is he all right?”

  “Do not worry yourself. Pedro is with Jared—Señor Fields—in the stable. When the weather began to improve and the sun melted some of the snow, Jared rode over to your cabin.”

  Sarita pulled the coverlet to her chest, her fingers picking at the material. “I was so sick I thought I was going to die.”

  Natalia swallowed the lump in her throat “For a time, so did I,” she admitted, then plumped the pillows behind her friend’s back, turning them over so the cooler surface would be next to Sarita’s body

  Natalia reached for the water pitcher and a cup. “Here. You need to drink something.”

  With a grunt, Sarita scooted up to her elbows, then finally to a sitting position. She grasped the cup in somewhat shaky hands and gulped.

  “Easy,” Natalia warned. “Not too much at one time.”

  Sarita sighed and nodded her understanding. Her eyes appeared brighter than they’d been in several days as she directed her gaze on Natalia. “How long have I been here?”

  “Four days.”

  “That long?” Sarita asked. “You know, before I became so ill, I worried about you…” She cast Natalia a knowing glance, then continued. “But I was certain the gentleman would take care of you.”

  “Sí, he has.” Natalia couldn’t hide her smile. Indeed, Jared had taken excellent care of her. Likely she would’ve died without him.

  “I thought for a moment I was dreaming,” Sarita said. “Waking up here is almost like waking up in heaven.”

  “What good fortune we both had someone to take care of us.” Natalia gave comforting pats to the back of her friend’s hand.

  “Sí. No matter how strong we both are, having someone at our side makes life worth living, no?”

  “Sí.” Natalia averted her gaze and set about straightening the bed linens.

  “Ah, from your simple answer and the expression on your face, I see that matters have progressed between you and Señor Fields. Or am I just a foolish old woman who merely hopes you have found someone, even if only for a time?”

  “Foolish old woman—you? Never.” Natalia crossed her hands over her heart. “I love Jared, and he says he loves me. Never wants to leave me.”

  “We women give our hearts easily, but men rarely do,” Sarita said with a sudden frown creasing her forehead. “Are you so sure of this stranger?”

  Was Sarita second-guessing herself? Somehow, Natalia had to convince her friend of Jared’s worth. “He saved my life, mi amiga. He has shown me every consideration and been a helpmate. He makes love to me—unlike Reginald who used me for his basest needs. While it’s true Jared and I have grown very close in a short time, our struggles to survive have forged a bond between us. As they say, we have weathered the storm. I simply cannot imagine the rest of my life without him.”

  “Tell me more of him—his background. What was his purpose in coming here, in the first place? Never forget you are a beautiful, rich widow, and there are unscrupulous men who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage.”

  Natalia laughed. “It’s true, and I was suspicious of him…at first. He isn’t after my money. No indeed, he was sent by Reginald’s family to prove I’d had him killed.”

  Sarita’s brows rose. “What?”

  “Sí, he’s a Pinkerton agent.” She went on to tell Sarita of their ups and downs of the last week. The arguments. The struggles. “All that has changed. Jared loves me and wants to make his life here on the ranch. We’ll have children.” She crossed her hands over her abdomen. “We may already have made a child,” she said with a smile. “Even if Jared were to leave me sometime in the future, he has already given me more in these few days than Reginald gave me in eight years.”

  “Then for that much, at least, I am thankful to Señor Fields.” Sarita straightened, and her gaze shot toward the door. “I hear someone banging around in my kitchen.” She struggled to lift the covers, then sank back into the pillows. “I must go…”

  “No, you’re still too weak to bother about the kitchen.” In fact, Natalia hadn’t seen the kitchen herself since bringing Sarita home. She could only imagine the disarray left by the two men.

  “But—”

  “But nothing. Jared and Pedro have taken over the household chores while I took care of you.”

  “You let those men in my kitchen? Are you loco?” Sarita let out a heavy sigh, then admitted, “Ah, well, I suppose it was the most reasonable division of labor, given the circumstances.”

  Natalia let out a laugh. “While their cooking isn’t quite up to your standards, we haven’t starved.” No, indeed, they hadn’t starved, but the men’s cooking efforts were basically tamales and beans or beans and tamales.

  “You think there might be something for me to eat?” Sarita’s stomach growled, and she nodded vigorously. “See, I’m hungry—the best sign of all. I’m much better, even if I’m weak as a newborn calf.”

  A loud clang reverberated from the kitchen, accompanied by much swearing, then laughter. They must have returned from the stables already.

  Sarita squeezed her eyes shut and covered her face with her hands. “Dios mío. What can they have done?”

  “I’ll go see.” Natalia rose and started toward the door. “You’ll be all right?” she asked over her shoulder.

  Her friend nodded vigorously. “Por favor. See what those men are up to. It sounds like they are tearing it apart piece by piece.”

  “And having a good time doing it,” Natalia said with a laugh and headed to the kitchen.

  Jared stuck his burned finger in his mouth. He’d carelessly picked up the hot iron skillet of cornbread and promptly dropped it. The cornbread for their meal was scattered in yellow clumps all over the tiled floor.

  “Just pulled from oven,” Pedro said. “What you thinking? Never cook nothing before?”

  Pulling himself upright and gathering what little dignity he had left, Jared gave an exasperated sigh. “Not before this week, no.”

  “Hombre has learning to do.” Pedro snorted his disgust, bent over to pick up the cornbread, then stopped. “No, you do.”

  “Fine,” he said, reaching for a broom. “I’m happy to clean up my own mess.” In spite of Pedro’s irascible nature, they’d become allies of a sort while Talia occupied herself nursing Pedro’s wife. The man spoke more English than he initially admitted to and understood Jared quite well. Together they tended to the animals, and at night, they whiled away the hours talking beside the kitchen fire. By now, Pedro knew more about Jared’s prior life than Talia did. His wild youth. Being disowned. Joining the Pinkertons as a last resort because the Pinkertons and peace officers were barely one step above the rat-catcher in the estimation of his former wealthy associates.

  Most of all, Pedro knew of Jared’s desire to give Talia more than his love and a strong back. He wanted to support her as a man should support his wife—financially—not live off her inherited wealth. Thus, he’d formed a plan. And if he had to go hat in hand to his father, he would.

  “What’s going on in here?” Talia rushed into the kitchen and stood with a very disapproving expression on her beautiful face. “You two have Sarita upset with all your noise and swearing.”

  “Mi esposa—awake?” Pedro straightened, his gaze darting toward the door.

  “Sí,” she said, smiling. “Go to her. I’ll take care of all this.” She gestured at the mess, then eyeballed Jared. “Or you will.”

  A wide smile spread across Pedro’s face. “Can she eat something?”

  “Si, but not too much.”

  Pedro picked up a plate of eggs, then rushed to see his wife.

  “I burned my hand again on that hot skillet,” Jared said, hoping for a sympathetic response. “Perhaps there’s some butter you could rub on it?”

  Talia shook head. “I told you before. Ice for a burn. At least that’s what I think makes sense.” She glanced at his hand and shrugged. “Not even a blister.” She
went to the back door, then turned to him with wide eyes. “The snow—it’s almost gone.”

  “Yeah.” He followed her and slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Damn, but he’d missed her. “You haven’t left Sarita’s side in four days. I don’t know how long the break in weather will last, but now that she’s on the mend, I need to ride into town to the telegraph office and let my employers know how the situation stands.” He’d waited longer than he should’ve, but he hadn’t wanted to leave until Sarita was on the mend, in case Talia needed him.

  “And your poor burned hand… Will you be able to manage the long ride?” Talia’s expression was as sympathetic as could be, but her tone was decidedly amused. Humor glimmered in her black-olive eyes as she gazed upward. “And your leg—how has it fared these last four days?” This time her tone was a touch more serious.

  “Not much pain.” He shrugged. “But it still swells at night.”

  “Poor bebé,” she said soothingly. “A rancher’s life is hard. Are you sure you’re up to the rigors of ranching?”

  Jared squared his shoulders. “Never fear, mi corazón, I am ready to share your life, here on this ranch. Haven’t we already been through more than one trial together?”

  Her mouth curved into a smile. “Sí. I don’t think I would have survived without you.”

  “You’re a strong and determined woman, Talia. You would’ve survived.” Grinning, he cocked his head to the side. “But it wouldn’t have been as much fun as what we’ve had, though, would it?” He pulled her closer so there would be no doubt about how much he’d missed her. Needed her.

  Her lips parted, inviting him to taste. And taste he did.

  Her arms slipped around his neck as she clung to him. Four long days, she hadn’t left her friend’s bedside. And four long nights, he’d slept alone. And now he couldn’t go another four seconds without having her.

  He pulled her into the pantry, nudged her against the wall, lifted her skirt, and pulled down her underwear. Her hands grappled at the button closure of his trousers. He sucked in a quick breath when she touched him. Her fingers were cool on his cock as she pulled it free. Desperate to have her, he adjusted his stance and slipped a finger inside her cleft. Her inner muscles grasped his finger tightly as she gasped in his ear, “Quickly, before—”